


broken puzzle pieces

by ultraviolence



Series: something stronger than magic (past life/Master AU) [4]
Category: Fate/Apocrypha, Fate/Grand Order, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms, Fate/stay night - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Past Lives, Angst, Drama, M/M, Master AU, Possible Soulmates, Rivalry, UST, i love making you cry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2019-03-27 11:33:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13879992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ultraviolence/pseuds/ultraviolence
Summary: "'You.' Arjuna suddenly hissed, his hands going to Karna’s neck, and Karna didn’t stop him in time. 'You were the one in my dreams.'"Part IV: Arjuna invited Karna for a little friendly archery match. Loser buys winner drinks, and the best man wins. Master/Magus/archaeologists/human/whatever AU.





	broken puzzle pieces

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry for the late update, I was quite busy the past week and I went to a con. I'd still recommend [my playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/starfaell/playlist/5llf9Dup9DH7tshhUPi3FV) to listen to while reading this, it keeps on growing. 
> 
> Enjoy!

It was—

The sky was churning. Although he cannot see it, he knows that the sea, ever-changing and ever-capricious, was churning, too. All the heavens were in motion, all the creatures of the land were there to watch it, the final, fateful encounter between him and his brother. They were demigods, after all, not merely creatures of flesh and bone, but of something more, something unknown and indescribable, a quality that makes mortals both fear and respect them. 

This was what he had been reliving, nearly every single night. Although, of course, there are other things. He remembered the gentle touch of his step-mother, the sternness by which his step-father taught him his art. He remembered the others, remembered being made prince. Being made _king_. 

He remembered his last moments, the final, bloody realisation that his enemy was without mercy, the resignation that this was the end.

He remembered the darkness.

* * *

The afternoon was crisp and clear, cloudy with a chance of failure and rain. Karna made his way carefully towards the field, an umbrella in hand. Arjuna’s invitation had arrived earlier that day, and the roughness in the scribbled note Karna’s magical scribe had received reminded him of how Arjuna presented himself to him—rough and temperamental, yet there was something more to it. Karna touched his lips absentmindedly after he read the message, remembering the brief kiss—if it could be called that—that they shared in his office some two or three weeks ago. There was no word from Arjuna ever since, and for some unknown reason, Karna was glad that the Institute gave him no further direction regarding the artefact Arjuna had discovered. In fact, if rumours from his colleagues are to be believed, they are preparing one for him because this time, they have their own separate interest from the Mage’s Association in winning the Holy Grail War. Karna was merely their vehicle to achieve that end.

Another war where he was pitted against Arjuna. Karna wondered, as absentmindedly as he touched his lips that morning, yet as paradoxically conscious as he when he remembered the dreams, what that would be like. If he would lose again, and lose it all.

He found Arjuna already there in the archery field, holding one of the bows—he has an archer’s hand, Karna remembered his thought from when he was in his office, and an archer’s disposition—searching for his gaze. Arjuna gave him a nod—a little less strained than usual—and Karna made his way to him carefully, briefly glancing at the sky. It seems like it’s going to rain later on.

“Ah, you’ve made it,” Arjuna said, when Karna was within speaking range. “I was beginning to think that you got lost in the way.”

Karna gave him the ghost of a smile, handing his umbrella and coat over to an attendant. “You’ve sent me the address,” he said, nowhere as stiff as Arjuna was when they’ve had dinner together, “how could I misplace myself? I have to mention, however,” Arjuna raised an eyebrow, turning slightly to him, “I was a little surprised that archery is one of your hobbies, as it is mine.”

The tenseness in his shoulders again. Karna had anticipated it but did not anticipate the furrowed eyebrows, the face drawn together in genuine confusion. “What do you mean?” Arjuna asked, and there was an undertone of hostility to it, of defensiveness.

Karna smiled, lightly, disarmingly, moving closer to lay a hand on Arjuna’s shoulder—the other man tensed at first, for what feels like forever, before he relaxed visibly—and gently turned him to face the range, his other hand joining Arjuna’s hand on the upper limb of the bow. “Nothing. I just thought you’ve had an archer’s disposition, that’s all.” Karna smiled again. “Although there are still some improvements to be made.”

From the side of his eye, he could see that Arjuna is blushing—either out of genuine embarrassment, annoyance, their closeness, or some combination of the three, Karna doesn’t know—and shifted slightly, trying to scowl at him. “Do not patronise me, Karna.”

“I’m not,” Karna said, somehow feeling a particular sort of satisfaction at Arjuna’s redness of the face and the obvious embarrassment and stiffness in his manner, which reminded him very much of how the other man also acted some two to three weeks ago. “Your grip simply could be improved.”

“Get your own bow,” Arjuna growled, and Karna could sense an undertone of frustration in his voice. “I invited you here for a friendly competition, _professor_ , not for you to patronise me.”

“Well then,” Karna withdraws, giving Arjuna a challenging smile, which the younger man returned with an equally challenging look. “May the best man wins, right?”

“May the best man wins,” Arjuna echoes. “Loser buys winner drinks.”

* * *

Perhaps inevitably, Karna lost, and he accepted it gracefully. It was almost a tie, but, despite Karna’s playful teasing of Arjuna’s grip earlier, Arjuna won. Perhaps that’s what powered him, Karna thought, the iron-forged determination to not lose to one man that he considers to be a rival. At the same time—

At the same time, he could see that Arjuna loved archery. Karna let out a thin smile at the thought. So, his guess that Arjuna had not only an archer’s hands but also an archer’s disposition was right after all. 

“What are you thinking about?” Arjuna prompted, as they both lowered their bows. There’s sweat already forming on his brow, from their little friendly match—although passersby would argue that it was far from friendly, from the seriousness and the determination that Arjuna exhibited—and there was a…marked change in his disposition. He seemed content, well-adjusted, and for the first time, doesn’t seem harassed by the mere presence of Karna around him. Karna smiled, and looked away.

“Nothing,” Karna said, feeling the heft of the bow in his hands. “It seems like I am buying you a drink after all.”

He was expecting something of a restrained annoyance from Arjuna, as per usual, but that seems absent as Arjuna toyed with his bow, refusing, for some reason, to meet his gaze. “No, let me buy you a drink instead,” he said, after a small period of silence, seeming somewhat nervous but also excited, a little, and Karna wondered why, although deep down inside he knows exactly why. He was looking for a rationale, Karna realised, as he opened his mouth to counter the other man’s offer. “After all, it’s not every day you were beaten and then gets treated by the victor, yes?” Karna still tried to counter him, but Arjuna waved him off, a glint of excitement in his eyes. “You’ve treated me to dinner. Taking you out for a few drinks is nothing to me.”

Karna concealed a smile, for he understands perfectly Arjuna’s rationale—his _true_ motivations for his offer. He doesn’t miss the younger man’s nervous excitement, nor his subtle admittance of Karna’s skills. “Deal,” he said, accepting Arjuna’s proffered hand without any hesitation. “Perhaps tonight?”

“No,” Arjuna said, surprisingly, shaking Karna’s hand with a firm grip that was just as unexpected, considering how he reacted after the kiss they've shared in his office. “Not tonight, Karna. Now.”

* * *

Arjuna took them to his apartment. His rationale, this time, was that not only it was too early to drink, but he also needs to change and had somewhere else to be later during the day. “Besides,” he told Karna, as they got into the backseat of his car—he has a chauffeur, and Karna expected nothing less—slightly winded from the walk, “there’s no privacy in such public places. I think you forgot your umbrella.”

“I’ll drop by next time,” Karna said, smoothing his coat, “it’s not a problem.”

Karna did not ask what he wanted to talk about, in lieu of such overwhelming privacy. Then again, Arjuna did seem like a man who values his privacy greatly. And he _was_ curious about Arjuna’s taste in drinks.

Arjuna’s place was indeed great in terms of privacy, a grand condo located somewhere North, in an equally posh area of London. He didn’t reveal the magical traps littering the place, of course, but Karna could detect most of them already, and guessed that this means Arjuna would be changing them after his visit. It is in their kind’s blood not to trust each other, after all—too much bad blood and bad history and bad relations in general. It actually surprised Karna that Arjuna trusted him this much to take him to where he lives. 

“I only occupy this place occasionally,” Arjuna said, breaking the silence, as if responding to Karna’s thoughts. Karna quickly shifted his expression into something more neutral instead of brooding. Not many people could read his expression, and he was impressed, if Arjuna did read what he was thinking on his face. Arjuna’s explanation was something of a half-lie, and Karna doesn’t buy it, but he puts on a bland face and pretends that he does. “Not often enough, in any case. If work and research don’t occupy me.”

“Of course,” Karna affected a slight smile, “aren’t we all?”

“Please take a seat,” Arjuna motions at the room they’re in—the living room was neatly arranged and nicely furnished and decorated, not in a bland sort of way but in a way that puts a personality into it, but despite that, there was an untouched quality to it, a particular kind of loneliness that only unoccupied pieces of furniture could speak. There was a personal bar not far off with empty seats, too, but Karna chose to sit on the couch. “What do you want to drink?”

“Whiskey, please,” Karna said, with a kind of detachment that he found surprising. If Arjuna is playing games, then two can play _that_ game. “On the rocks.”

Something flickers in Arjuna’s brown eyes—annoyance that Karna thought has faded away momentarily in light of their archery session—and he affected a smile. “Aren’t it a little too early for that?”

Karna tilted his head. “You said you’re going to buy me a drink, but you took me to your place instead, Juna. And I _did_ say it’s too early for a drink,”

Arjuna flinched, and anger flashed in his eyes, putting a twisted kind of light in his fine features. “Don’t call me that,” he said, meaning to be harsh, but flinched at his own tone, as if he wasn’t quite sure of himself. “You’re not my friend.”

_But you kissed me_ , Karna thought, but didn’t voice it. Arjuna made his way towards the bar, fetched two glasses and a bottle from the upper rack, and poured it for them. Karna raised an eyebrow, changed the topic. “I thought you’d not be having what I’m having,”

Juna puts ice in them, sucked in a breath and dared himself—it was obvious—to look at Karna. “What did you think I’d have?”

Karna smiled. The younger man made his way to him, putting the tray on the coffee table in front of him. “White Russian,” he told him, frankly.

For the first time, Arjuna flashes him a lopsided smile. “You’re wrong,” he said, taking his drink for a sip of the amber liquid. “Wait here for a moment, I’m going to go get changed. I’ll be back soon. Don’t touch anything.”

Karna shrugged, already shrugging off his coat earlier, his sleeves rolled up, sipping his own drink. The subtext was clear: _make yourself comfortable, but not too comfortable_. He doesn’t mind. The whiskey was good. 

Arjuna was gone, and Karna was left to contemplate. He observed his surroundings, swirled the liquid in his glass for a bit as he examined the magazines on Juna’s coffee table, all glossy and untouched, and only squinted a little as he reads the title on the books in a small shelf near the coffee table. Like the magazines, they were there for display—and the topics are as mundane as mundane can be, although one or two or a couple of them could be a magicked book, though Karna didn’t pick any traces of magical energy from it—but unlike the magazine, they were picked for a very personal reason.

Karna was only about to pull one of them off the shelf when Arjuna returns, in more casual wear. 

“I’m glad to see that you didn’t touch anything,” he said, lightly, with an edge of nervousness to it. Karna turned to him almost automatically, leaning back in his seat, one hand nursing his drink, the other resting lightly underneath his chin.

“So,” he started, just as lightly, his gaze following Juna as the younger man sipped his whiskey and sat down opposite him on an armchair, “what do you want to talk about? You’ve brought me all the way here, and,” Karna gave him a wry smile, “you’ve defeated me. Of course, there must be something important that you wanted to talk about.”

Arjuna looked directly at him, sharply, and Karna could feel broken puzzle pieces falling into place. There was something in his gaze, a gamble, a challenge, an unspoken fear, and he looked away, under the pretension of looking out the window and sipping his drink. He was like a deer in the headlights, Karna thought, and he’d just caught him red-handed, not only once, but twice today. “You said you believed in the workings of fate,” Arjuna said, gulping down the liquid like it was made of broken glass and something he fervently wished for. “The last time we meet. We— I— well—“

“Let’s not mince words anymore, Juna,” Karna said, sharply, yet no less gentle, sitting up straight. Arjuna flinched again, but his gaze this time didn’t waver.

“The Holy Grail,” he breathed, “there is a mistake that I would like to fix.”

“In this life?”

“No,” Arjuna said, running a hand through his hair. “That’s the problem. In a past life.”

He looked at him, and, Karna doesn’t know what comes into him, but he leaned forward and kissed him, smoothing the front of Arjuna’s shirt. The younger man gulped, but kissed him back, just as fervently as he did gulping the alcohol earlier, tasting like whiskey and a little like rainy London, and something else, something familiar. Karna deepened his kiss, and Arjuna gasped, returning the gesture, his lips just as hungry, pulling him close roughly. They only stopped—very briefly—to put their glasses away, and Arjuna pulled Karna to him with a force that was surprising to Karna, although he knows that he should have known better, and their lips met again, greedily, carving fervent prayers on each other’s lips, as their hands unbuttoned each other’s shirts.

“ _Karna_ ,” Juna gasped, just enough to stop themselves for a moment, although both of them can’t bear to be apart from each other even by mere seconds, every second pulling the other ever closer, and Karna was now sitting on his lap, their shirts both half-undone. He looked strangely fragile and vulnerable, Karna thought, even as he balances himself on Arjuna's lap, here, without the trappings of the magical nor the academic world and in this lonely place he calls home, and he thought…fleetingly…that this is the side that Juna doesn’t allow the world to see. The side that he _doesn’t_ want the world to see: a flushing young man in the early years of his young adulthood, a human with wants and desires. Not a powerful magi, nor an accomplished academician, but just a boy. 

A boy who made mistakes. Karna wanted to worship him, wanted to let him use him as he please, to let this boy see his human side as much as he’d allowed him to see his, but stopped himself for the time being. Juna was catching his breath, obviously wanted to say something.

“Have you—“ he started, tracing absent patterns on Karna’s exposed chest. “Have you any…repeating dreams?”

“Hm?” Karna raised an eyebrow, his own fingers tracing equally absent patterns on Arjuna’s darker skin. “Yes. But this is not the time nor the place to—“

“ _You_.” Arjuna suddenly hissed, his hands going to Karna’s neck, and Karna didn’t stop him in time. He could feel his grip tightening, only fractionally, but enough for Karna to let out a choked noise. The other man—the man who now has his life on the line—narrowed his eyes at him, but Karna didn’t try to push him away. “You were the one in my dreams. You were the one who…who—“

There was a silence, broken by Karna’s cough, before Arjuna released him, and Karna’s hands shot up to his bruised neck, massaging it. “Say it, Juna,” despite that, his own tone was level, calm, and Karna was surprised by the force in which he raised his gaze to meet Arjuna’s. “Say it. Say that you killed me.”

“I killed you,” Arjuna said, his eyes blazing with fire, a storm waiting to be unleashed. “I- I- you- you were my rival. And my half-brother,” he added, pushing Karna away. “I can’t do this.”

Karna wasn’t expecting this, although he had expected something like this to happen. Then again, every interaction with Arjuna is unexpected as it was turbulent, torrid; Juna was a storm in the skin of a man, and he wasn’t the easiest to deal with. Karna knows this. 

“I know, Juna,” he said, placatingly, forcing himself up and running a hand through his now-messy hair. “That is why we were given this chance, is it not? To start again and…forget the past, if possible?”

“The past is unavoidable,” Arjuna retorted, bitingly. “It’s not up to us to forget it. I can’t do this, Karna,” he said, and added, his expression, for a moment, softening fractionally, “don’t do this to yourself.”

Karna swallowed, and looked away. He noticed that Arjuna had started buttoning up his shirt, and did the same, his fingers lingering on his own shirt, remembering how the other man had tasted, on his lips. He sighed. “We’ve a new life,” he argued, albeit feebly, “and we’ve had magic. Why not…why not try?”

The blood. The darkness. The horrifying thought that in the end, it was not the gods, but his half-brother who had betrayed him. Both of them knows what they’d done. Arjuna, after all…Karna vaguely wondered what happened after his death. After he took not only his life, but also his head.

He shook his head. There are elixirs of forgetting, enchantments that could ward away the dreams, even things…that could alter their memory. If Juna is willing to do it, then so is Karna, even if such things were costly and painful, because despite their professed rivalry, despite Juna’s open hostility towards Karna, despite what the entire world thought of them…Karna had started to feel something more towards Arjuna. And the realisation, oh, the realisation, it was as painful as their kiss in his office, more painful than his utter rejection of his proposal. Karna wiped back a tear that was threatening to spill out. 

“I need you to leave,” Arjuna said, brusquely, once more businesslike. He wouldn’t look at him as he said it, opting, instead, to look at somewhere over the horizon, outs of the window overlooking the living room. Perhaps he was looking at the past. Karna wanted to bring him to the present, wanted to show him a path towards the future. But he wouldn’t look at him. “We have nothing more to say towards each other. It was nice to make your acquaintance, professor.”

“Yes,” Karna said, swallowing his own feelings. “It was nice to make your acquaintance, too.”

“You know your way out,” Arjuna said, almost robotically.

Karna nodded, listless in the silence that follows as he tidies himself up; both of them avoiding each other’s gaze gamely. 

“One more thing,” Karna said, as he smoothed his clothes and hair. “Please, Arjuna. Only a moment.”

The other’s gaze has returned from whatever distant constellation he was in, but they were filled with unbearable hostility now, and Karna had to suppress his own desire to look away again, to walk away and leave the room and never return. “If it’s about the Holy Grail War, I do not want to hear about it.”

“But why?” Karna asked, absently toying with his tie. “We have never even talked about it properly.”

Arjuna looked directly into him again, his eyes slightly narrowed. “Because the Grail would make a rival of us both,” he said, hand curling into a fist. Karna knows what he truly means—it would make us both relive that moment that moment that moment—and he understands Juna’s fear, now. “You know this. It would find a way to pit us against each other again because the truth is, it thrives on such things, Karna,” he continued, and Karna flinched at the way he said his name, so soft and yet so harsh at the same time, pushing him away but wanting him to stay, wanting him to ask him again to stay. “I advise you to withdraw. But that would probably be out of the question, as the Grail chooses whom it pleases and I’m certain the Institute had its own…agendas.”

It was too much to process at once, and Karna realised, belatedly, that a tear was trickling out from his left eye. Arjuna wasn’t looking at him anymore.

“Goodbye, Juna,” he whispered, and left.

**Author's Note:**

> I think I'll have some 2 parts for them left. I won't go into the actual Grail War, just exploring the relationship and the dynamics and the chemistry between both of them. Juna, why you gotta make everything so difficult. 
> 
> Anyway, thank you for reading! Comments & suggestions welcome, also hmu at twitter: @raginghel <3


End file.
